


Sostenuto Tremolo

by SpringFire1994



Category: Glee
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Blangst, Episode: s05e15 Bash, Hurt/Comfort, Klaine, Language, M/M, Nightmares, blam friendship, mentioned anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27030667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpringFire1994/pseuds/SpringFire1994
Summary: Sostenuto - Means 'sustained' in Italian. In sheet music, sostenuto notes require musicians to play each note beyond its normal value.Tremolo - An effect musicians can put on a sustained note to create a trembling sound. Usually it is achieved by repeating the same note very quickly over and over again.When bad memories are dragged to the surface, the inevitable consequence takes form when the lights are off and the world is asleep. The same twelve minutes of his life are replayed over and over in his dreams. The past is a cruel mistress, and even the consequences have consequences.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Kudos: 9





	1. Fucked up 2AMs

The young man blinked sleep out of his eyes as he tried to ascertain just what had woken him up. The apartment was blanketed by both darkness and silence. Or at least, it should have been.

Soft whimpers were breaking the silence, so soft that they almost didn’t cut through his sleepy haze. Only the fact that those whimpers were accompanied by twitches and flinches from the body beside him, brought his attention to his fiancé.

Black eyebrows were pulled into a frown, eyes were darting under eyelids and Blaine was flinching away from invisible foes; his sleep dogged by nightmares, just as it had been when they had first met.

Kurt had known, the minute he had woken up in the hospital, that the situation was going to drag up bad thoughts and memories for Blaine. The incident, which had painted scars upon his fiancé’s body, the incident which had ignited the move to Dalton years ago, the incident which had ensured that Blaine repeated his freshman year; was currently playing out behind those eyelids.

Pushing away the last remnants of sleep; Kurt reached out to grip the smaller man’s shoulder, only to have Blaine flinch away violently, with a small ‘no’. Dark curls mashed against the pillow as his fiancé curled in on himself, a position that appeared as painful as it did defensive. He called out the man’s name; softly as to try not to add to the nightmare that was hammering Blaine’s sleep. He tried again, reaching out to shake his fiancé with another call of his name. The only thing separating them from the rest of the flat was a curtain, and he knew that if Blaine got any louder, there would be awkward questions in the morning. Questions that Blaine would be in no fit state to answer if he didn’t pull out of his nightmare soon.

“Blaine, you’re safe.” Kurt whispered, gripping onto a shoulder and refusing to let go, paying no mind to the pitiful attempts to throw him off. “You’re safe, it’s Kurt, you’re in our flat in New York and no one is going to hurt you.” Kurt forcibly wrapped himself around his fiancé; hoping that it might provide a feeling of security, as well as comfort. “You have to wake up for me. Please Blaine, you know that you are safe. You know where you are. You know that I’m here. It’s just a memory, it isn’t real. You don’t have to be scared anymore.” They were the same words Kurt had whispered to the older man, once he had finally managed to get him to open up about the attack in high school. It was the same words that had managed to calm Blaine out of numerous anxiety attacks that had followed the confession. They were the words that up until now, had never failed to drag him out of a nightmare. “This isn’t happening.” Kurt muttered to himself, unwrapping himself from the smaller man, before sitting back and pressing his hands to his eyes; taking in deep breaths as he tried (and failed) to push a headache away from his temples.

“Kurt?” Shit. He’d forgotten about his dad. How the hell had that happened? “Kurt I’m coming in.” Burt whispered, and the curtain was pushed back to reveal his Burt, frowning in concern and looking as though he was ready to do battle.

“It’s just a nightmare.” Kurt answered the unasked question in his dad’s eyes. “I’ve tried to pull him out of it, but I can’t without waking up the entire apartment.”

“Stuff the rest of us.” Burt replied with a huff. “Help him.” Kurt wavered for a second before sighing and turning to grab Blaine’s wrists, forcing them above his head before straddling him to sit on his stomach. It was a technique he’d only used once before, when Blaine’s nightmares had gotten violent and the smaller man had scratched angry, red lines along his own wrists.

“Blaine you have to wake up now.” Kurt pleaded; hoping to cut through his fiancé’s memories. “You have to wake up and see that you are safe.” He switched to holding Blaine’s wrists with one hand and used his other to grab his chin and turn it so that he would be the first thing Blaine saw when his eyes finally opened. “Blaine.” He called again, ignoring the lights flicking on in the apartment. “Wake up. It’s just a dream, you’re safe. You’re in New York, in our apartment and you are safe.”

“No stop it. Leave me alone.” Blaine whimpered, forcing his head out of Kurt’s grip in order to attempt to mash his face into the pillow. To escape from what ever he was seeing in his mind.

“Blaine wake up!” Kurt was now demanding loudly, seeing as it was pretty obvious that everyone was now awake. “God damn it wake up.” He took a breath and pinched the top of his fiancé’s left ear. Blaine’s sensitive spot. Brown eyes opened immediately, accompanied with a sharp gasp and Kurt found himself shoved to one side as Blaine flung himself off of the bed and up against the wall, his head hitting the bricks with a painful thump. Kurt was in front of him in an instant, staring into unfocused eyes and trying to convey all of the love he had for the man in front of him with just a look.

“Don’t, stop, leave me alone.” Short, sharp breaths were punctuated with more pleas as whatever Blaine was seeing turned more violent and he slid down the wall to curl up defensively.

“Blaine it’s me, it’s Kurt, you’re safe. It’s okay.” Blaine screamed something that almost sounded like ‘stop’ before curling in on himself even further, sobbing violently. Knowing that whatever had just happened had pulled the smaller man out of his nightmares; Kurt slowly edged himself closer, closing his arms around Blaine and shooting his dad, Rachel and Sam a dangerous look. Burt nodded and turned to disappear back to the living room, Rachel seemed to war with herself before reluctantly heading into the bathroom, but Sam didn’t move an inch. He’d crashed after the potluck and begged them to let him take the other sofa for the night, if only to get him out of Mercedes’s hair for the evening.

“Is he alright?” He asked after a few minutes of awkward quiet, broken by Blaine’s sobbing. “I mean, I knew about the nightmares but…” The blond trailed off; worry written on his face.

“He just needs a minute.” Kurt replied sharply.

“Can I help?”

“ _Could_ you help?” Kurt shot back with a quirked eyebrow, trying to judge Sam’s intentions. The taller man sighed and moved forwards, kneeling down at the side of them and reaching into their embrace to find one of Blaine’s hands.

“Hey man.” He whispered. “It’s okay, it’s only me. You’re with Kurt and Sam. You’re safe dude, we’re in New York in your kickass apartment and we’re all safe.” Kurt reluctantly moved to the other side of fiancé; forcing himself between Blaine and the nightstand, opening up room for Sam to do, whatever it was he was doing. The blond payed him no mind but instead kept talking to Blaine in a soft voice, throwing impressions in and making references to some superhero or another.

Whatever it was, it was working and as Sam was weaving his own special brand of magic, Blaine had managed to steady his breathing and soon his brown eyes were peaking out from behind his knees.

“Sam?”

“Yeah dude. You had a nightmare again, but you’re safe and you’re with me and Kurt in the apartment in Bushwick. We’re all safe.”

“What happened?”

“Come on dude, I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, I just explained. Look Kurt’s here too.” Blaine’s head whipped up so fast that Kurt briefly feared whiplash but soon Blaine’s eyes were focusing on his and he forced a smile onto his face. “See dude. Safe. Now I’m going to warm some milk for hot chocolate and Kurt is going to get you back into bed before you freeze to death.” It seemed that with those words, Blaine only just realised that he was shirtless. He shivered and allowed Kurt to pull him to his feet and lead him back to their bed.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, hugging himself as Kurt let go of his hand to sort the covers out. His fiancé hushed him gently and sat him down on the edge of the bed; kneeling down in front of him so they’re eyes could meet.

“It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for. These things happen. We should have been more prepared after what happened.”

“You scared me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It was a foolish and reckless move, and I didn’t think about what it would do to you. What it would drag up.” Blaine shivered again and Kurt instantly regretted his words. They shouldn’t be talking about this. Not now. Not at two o’clock in the morning, when the world seemed fucked up and Rachel and Burt were not so secretly listening in. “Come on and lay back down with me.” He whispered; moving to sit on the bed and dragging Blaine towards the headboard and into his chest.

“I wasn’t there to stop it.” He whispered. “I wasn’t there to help you. I wasn’t there and you needed me.” Kurt shushed him again gently.

“It’s okay. I’m safe now. I’m safe because I’m here with you.” Sam approached again, carrying a huge mug of hot chocolate and the comforter off of the sofa.

“Here you go dude. I know it helps you feel better.” He said softly, handing Blaine the mug with a smile. “I’m gonna be right outside the curtain okay? If you need anything just shout.” Before Kurt could protest the blond had pulled the curtain across and made himself somewhat comfortable on the other side with the comforter; his back turned towards them and his shadow stretching across the floor. He was going to ask him to move, until he realised that Blaine had had calmed further with the man’s presence and didn’t seem to be taking his eyes off of Sam’s back. Perhaps more had gone on that year between them than he’d previously realised.

Blaine had downed half of the mug and passed it to him before he realised that he’d spent the last minute or so staring at his fiancé. He took the mug and took a few sips, passing it back to the older man with a smile and a shake of his head.

“You finish it.” He said softly. Blaine complied quickly; finishing off the drink and placing the mug on the nightstand before sliding down in between the covers, pulling them over his head. Kurt smiled and brushed the few dark curls that were sticking out before doing the same, calling out to his dad to flick the lights back off. He wrapped his arms around his fiancé and felt Blaine’s tears run onto his shoulder as he cried himself back to sleep. He knew from experience that the tears were more for catharsis than they were for pain or fear, and he tightened his hold on the smaller man.

Questions would come in the morning, but they would face them together. With Sam already snoring just beyond the curtain and his arms tight around his waist, he knew that Blaine would be feeling a lot safer than he was quarter of an hour ago.

Yes, the world seemed fucked up at two in the morning, but when you were together with friends, it was at least bearable.


	2. Early Mornings are a Bitch

The shower spray was just starting to cool when he finally turned off the faucet. Rachel was going to throw a fit about the lack of hot water, but he couldn’t care less at that moment as he was in full avoidance mode after the events of the night. He knew that the questions would be coming eventually, and he was debating whether to skip breakfast in favour of running off to class early.

He’d managed to slip out of bed without disturbing Kurt, had made it past Sam who was still camped out in front of their curtain and successfully avoided waking Burt before diving for the relative safety of the bathroom.

He spent as much time as he could, drying off and dressing before sticking his head around the door only to discover that luck was definitely _not_ on his side this morning. The other four residents of the apartment were all sipping coffee around the kitchen table, gearing up for the intervention he knew was inevitable, and the instant the bathroom door had opened, all eyes had been on him.

“Take a seat Blaine.” Burt offered (ordered), sliding a cup of coffee along the table to the only empty seat, at the head. He grimaced and dragged his feet, ignoring both Rachel and Kurt who were throwing him the stink eye for taking up valuable bathroom time.

“Good morning everyone.” He replied with a small smile, sitting down and taking the coffee. Kurt huffed and folded his arms on the table. Apparently, his fiancé was pissed off enough to throw his daily skincare routine out of the window.

“We need to talk about last night.” Rachel stated bluntly and without beating around the bush. He internally winced and stared down at his coffee, which had evidently become the most interesting thing in the world.

“I am sorry we woke you.” He replied, his stomach churning and self-deprecating thoughts running through his mind, which for some reason was refusing to shut up. “If it becomes a problem, I can look for somewhere else…”

“Like hell you are.” Burt cut in fiercely, shooting a scowl at Rachel when she seemed to consider the offer, luckily un-noticed by Blaine. “Look kid, I don’t know what last night was about, but I can tell you that exiling yourself from your friends is the worst thing you can do right now.”

“I can handle this myself; I usually do.” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud. It seemed as though the coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. He raised his mug to take another drink in the hopes of covering for his slip up, which had been missed by no one at the table.

“You don’t have to though dude.” Sam responded. “We’re a team, aren’t we? Like brothers? Isn’t that what we said last year?”

“Sam…”

“No, I won’t hear it B. If you’re moving out, then I’m following you purely to drag your ass right back. We’re here for you bud, and none of this, ‘I can do this alone bullshit’. We know you can cope on your own, but our point is, you don’t have to.” Blaine groaned and dropped his head into his hands, purely for the purpose of avoiding eye contact with anyone. It was bad enough that Kurt was going to end up grilling him, without the added ‘intervention’ that was being staged.

“Look guys, I know you care, and I know that you mean well, but I can get a handle on this. Until I do, I don’t want to be waking Kurt and Rachel up every night.” There was finally movement from his fiancé as Kurt got up from his spot beside Sam, to lean against the table, next to him.

“I’ve never minded you waking me up before, and I don’t mind now.” Kurt said softly. “Last night was my fault. I went rushing into a situation without thinking of the consequences. Would I do it again? I honestly don’t know.” There was a huff from Burt at that, but he ignored his dad and kept going, trying to get his point across. “What I _can_ say, is that I regret the consequences it has caused. I know that it’s dislodged bad memories, and I know that I scared you. But I’m safe, and you’re safe and we always will be as long as we stick together. I will not let you run away from your problems when we can and _will_ help.”

Blaine opted to growl his frustration into his hands rather than attempt to form any sort of reply for his fiancé. He just wanted to drop the subject, go to class, maybe grab a coffee after school and generally spend the rest of the day thinking about anything _but_ what had happened during the night. It was bad enough that it had happened in the first place, without having to drag it all back up again this morning. If he wasn’t careful, he knew that Kurt would suggest going back to a therapist and he was no where near ready to talk about any of this with a complete stranger.

“I know it’s frustrating dude.” Sam said softly. “But we are just trying to help you out here.”

“No what you’re all doing here is dragging everything back up when I just want to _forget_!” He growled, slamming his hands flat on the table. “I don’t need to talk about this.” That was a full-on hiss that time he thought with a grimace. Like something out of Harry Potter. “What I _need_ is to go to class.” He stood up, his chair sliding backwards with force and he stormed towards the door, grabbing his jacket and messenger bag on his way out of the apartment.

Was it too much to ask for them to give him some space? Probably. Was he running away? Definitely. Kurt had experienced, first-hand what happened when stuff like this was discussed this early in the day. God knows his fiancé had talked him out of enough anxiety attacks in the past.

He spent a minute outside their apartment building, breathing in the cold, damp air and calming his nerves before heading towards the subway station, grabbing a spiced latte and a cinnamon bun from Starbucks, in lieu of a proper meal. His stomach growled as if to remind him that he’d been prevented from his usual breakfast by the damn intervention and he promised himself a half decent lunch if he made it through the morning without incident. Now _that_ was an incentive to deal with this before class.

The train set off and he stuck his ear buds in, cursing the fact that he’d forgotten his phone but eternally grateful to whichever deity was watching; that his iPod still had some charge left in it. He scowled as he flicked through the songs, looking for something with a heavy beat and lots of guitars that wouldn’t make him want to throw the damn thing in the nearest trashcan. He finally settled on one of Cooper’s old playlists of ACDC, Sabbath and The Sweet; and turned the volume right up to try and supress the urge to scream.

Mood now so south; it was in the Antarctic, and his stomach still complaining about his meagre breakfast; he was halfway across the city before he realised it was a Sunday.


	3. Getting Pissed is ALWAYS the Answer

He’d lost track of time at some point after dark. Not wanting to return to the apartment and feeling physically ill at the thought of crawling back into bed, he’d been walking around Washington Square Park for at least an hour, and the music from the Jazz lounge was been helpfully carried on the breeze any time the door opened. Oh, what the hell, he had fake ID and he could really use a drink right about now.

The heat hit him as soon as he stepped through the doors. The bouncer had waved him through with barely a glance at his ID and soon he found himself sat at the bar with a drink, his bag by his feet and his finger tapping away on his cheek in time to the music. He only planned on having one, he was after all; nearly a two hours walk away from the apartment and he’d not really had a proper meal all day, something his stomach had really thanked him for (not).

After his realisation on the subway that morning, he’d practically wasted the day. He’d initially headed towards Central Park, where he’d got more coffee and another pastry and sat and watched the ducks for well over two hours (yeah it was cliché but it had been a great head clearer). As it had neared twelve though, his stomach had protested loudly over the absence of food, so he’d teat himself to lunch at Café Luxembourg before venturing back into the park for the rest of the afternoon.

He’d had sense at least, to make his way back into the city when the sun had started to get low, and had found himself hanging around NYU, reluctant to cross back over the water to Bushwick. He would have to go back soon; Kurt was probably going to throw a fit at him for leaving without his phone.

“Same again?” He found himself nodding and promised himself that this would be the last drink.

* * *

“I’m going to murder him!” Kurt growled for the seventh time that hour. As soon as he’d spied Blaine’s phone on the bedside table he’d chased after his fiancé only to reach the subway platform as a train was pulling off. He could see Blaine through the window, clutching a Starbucks cup and a paper bag in one hand, and his iPod in the other, his eyebrows pulled into a scowl. There was nothing he could do then, but hope that he made a reappearance before lunch, and when that didn’t happen the hope was that he’d be home for dinner.

It was now nearing midnight and there had still been no sign of Blaine. They had all moved to New York to be somewhere bigger, somewhere big enough to hold their dreams. The problem was that it was big enough for someone to easily get lost in. Big enough that if Blaine didn’t _want_ to be found, then they had no chance in hell of finding him.

Burt had been forced to fly back that morning which meant that it was just the five of them on hand if anything was to go to hell in a hand basket.

“I really _am_ going to kill him.” Kurt growled again, his head in his hands and a stone-cold cup of coffee in front of him.

“Maybe we should think about calling the police.” Rachel said quietly, glancing towards the pile of phones in the middle of the table.

“It hasn’t been 24 hours Rach.” Mercedes replied gently.

“Look guys, I know that we’re all worried, but Blaine is the smart one out of all of us.”

“Speak for yourself.” Artie responded, brushing his shoulder and glaring at Sam.

“What I mean is, he is the least likely of us to have gotten himself in trouble. He knows how to get out of bad situations, and he has his boxing skills if he needs them. He’s probably missed a train and is walking back now.”

* * *

The music was intoxicating, the alcohol was intoxicating, the heat was making him feel dizzy and he found himself getting caught up in fuzzy feeling in his head. At least his brain had shut up for now.

“We’re closing soon buddy.” The barman said, motioning to the clock, which in all honesty he was slightly too drunk to be able to read. “You better drink up and start making your way home. Do you need me to call you a cab?”

“No, I got it.” He replied, his words slurring. He knocked back the rest of his drink. And stood to put his coat on. “Have I got time to visit the restroom?”

“Sure, its through the double doors, on your left.”

“Thanks.” He nodded his gratitude and stumbled his way towards the double doors by the entrance, only just managing to remember to pick his bag up. He washed up and checked he’d got everything, panicking momentarily until he remembered he’d left his phone at the loft. He’d got his wallet (which was the important thing) and he’d had the forethought to draw out some cash earlier in the day. He made his way outside, having to pause to steady himself on a wall when the cold air went straight to his head and made him dizzy.

“You aright there mate?” He barely registered a light-haired man moving towards him, arms outstretched as if to steady him.

“You’re British.” Why did those words have to be the first out of his mouth? Why did his brain refuse to co-operate with his mouth?

“Blaine?”

“Who are you?” He slurred, feeling himself swaying.

“I’m Adam, I go to NYADA with Kurt. I run the Glee club, the Adam’s Apples. We met once.” In his foggy, fuzzy inebriated state the first thing that came to mind was to ask for proof that they knew each other, causing Adam to chuckle. “Well, you went to Dalton before transferring to be with Kurt, you are a National Show Choir champion, and your mother is Filipino. You and Kurt broke up before you proposed in a grand gesture with a Beatles song. Now can I get you in a cab and back to Bushwick? It’s nearly one in the morning and we _both_ have class tomorrow.”

“Okay, but if you try anything, I must warn you that I can box.”

“Oh, I know all about fight club.” Adam said with a chuckle, slinging an arm around his shoulders in a bid to get him to move in the right direction without landing on his ass. “It was one of the first things Kurt told me about, of course the only thing he said, was that he couldn’t talk about it.” Adam chuckled again at his own wit and ten minutes later he’d successfully managed to get them into a cab, on their way to Bushwick.

“I screwed up.” Blaine slurred, leaning against the Brit. “I hurt him.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s forgiven you for that. You might want to look into apologising to him for your current state though. What are you doing running around on your own after dark anyway?”

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Touché. I asked first though.”

“I was running away.”

“From Kurt?”

“He’s pissed at me.”

“Bet he’s not as pissed as you are though.” Blaine seemed to find this incredibly funny for some reason and burst out into full on, tears rolling down cheek’s laughter. It wasn’t the first time he’d been this drunk, he’d attended enough parties at Dalton be able to hold his beer, and then there had been that time he’d kissed Rachel; it had been the first time in a long while he’d felt like a happy drunk though. Once he’d laughed himself out, he leaned against his companion and closed his eyes, dropping off to sleep in seconds.

* * *

The bashing on the door startled everyone sat at the table, and Kurt felt like he was going to throw up. Sam was the first to reach the door and slid it back to reveal a tall, blond boy, supporting a clearly drunk Blaine.

“Adam?”

“Hey Kurt.” Adam greeted; passing Blaine off to Sam who had quickly made for the smaller man; grabbing his bag and taking him out of Adam’s grip. “I found him outside a Jazz bar near NYU. Lucky I was there to be honest; he just needs to sleep it off.” Kurt was a mixture of horrified at the state his fiancé was in, relieved beyond relief that he was safe, furious at him and immensely grateful that it was Adam that had found him.

“You should stay.” Rachel said, seeing that Kurt was unresponsive at the moment. “I know we’re a bit full but it’s past one and you will be going the same way as us in the morning.”

“Thanks, but I’m not far from here. I can taxi it.”

“No please stay.” Rachel insisted, taking him by the hand and pulling him into the loft. “It’s not safe out there at night and its so late. You can have Sam’s spot on the couch and I’ll even cook you breakfast. Consider it a thank you for looking after Blaine.” Adam seemed to war with himself for a moment before nodding his agreement and shedding himself of his coat. He was soon introduced to Mercedes and Artie and once Kurt found his voice; he was being thanked profusely for getting the dark-haired man back in one piece.

Kurt knew that going anywhere near the curtain right now was a bad idea. Sam could handle a drunk Blaine, and he would probably just end up ranting and raving at his fiancé for the stunt he had pulled all day. He was unashamed to say that the mixture of rage and relief was what was causing his tears, and he could do nothing right now but trust Sam to get Blaine into bed without incident.

“Kurt is gonna be pissed.” Blaine slurred as Sam pulled an old Dalton hoodie over his head coaxing him beneath the quilts. “I mean like, soooooooooo pissed.”

“Not as pissed as you are.” Sam replied, earning full on laughter from the smaller man.


End file.
